


"Oh Yes, I Heard."

by TheCrimsonWolf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Aziraphale and Castiel are Brothers, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Don't Hate Me If This Sucks, Emotionally Hurt Castiel, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), It's Also My Fault, Pinterest Prompted, Protective Big Brother Aziraphale, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Too Many Tags I'm Sorry, We're Just Having Fun Here, not meant to be taken seriously, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrimsonWolf/pseuds/TheCrimsonWolf
Summary: Dean's fucked up, Castiel has decided to leave for the last time, Sam is hurting for them and for him.And Aziraphale?Aziraphale is PISSED.(Crowley's just an extra bitch who likes the drama so of course he tagged along)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 219





	"Oh Yes, I Heard."

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll do a Pinterest Made Me Do It batch of stories for Supernatural/Good Omens. Who knows not me I DON'T KNOW!
> 
> Anyway, this is a short thingimajig I got from seeing this comic on Pinterest. Hopefully it's good, hopefully it makes sense, and hopefully it's entertaining :)
> 
> Here's the link for the comic, I tried to find the exact link on Tumblr but I didn't have any luck https://www.pinterest.com/pin/632615078892009775/  
> (all credit for the artwork goes to the artist and not at all me)

"I got it, Sammy. I'll be back soon."

"You don't _have_ to be, I just want to be sure you're - "

"What?" Dean growled, stopping so sharply in the middle of the busy sidewalk that two people almost ran into him. "You wanna make sure I'm _what,_ Sam?"

"Just...you know - "

"If you say, 'Okay', I'll be home in _five_ and you'll wish I'd stayed - "

" _Safe_!"

Dean stopped, grinding his teeth together as Sam sighed on the other end of the call.

"Take your time," Sam said, voice hollow. "Take till next _month_ , if we get one..."

"Sammy," Dean sighed guiltily.

"Just be safe. You and Cas...I know you had your 'profound bond' and all, but he walked out on me too, you know."

Dean shifted in place, bile rising to the back of his throat.

"And I've lost enough people too," Sam finished, clearing his throat. "So just...be safe."

"Sammy I'm - "

Dean jerked at the _bleep_ of the call ending, pulling the phone away to stare at it. A cleared throat brought his eyes up to see an angry woman in a track suit tapping her foot at him, the double stroller between them holding two infants staring at him. He grunted out an apologetic noise and sidestepped them, pocketing his phone as he ambled down the sidewalk. Today already sucked without him being beat up by a power-walking soccer mom.

And, because the Universe - and _God_ as it turned out - hated him, he was immediately shoved into the alley he was trying to pass. He stumbled just enough to separate from the rest of the traffic, and sighed as he righted himself out, hearing the distinctly separate click of shoes nearing him as he reached over and put a hand on the gun at his right hip.

"Dude," he started without turning around. "I'm going to give you two seconds before you end up on _Forensic FIles._ "

"Well that'd be a bit inconvenient for both of us, wouldn't it?"

He frowned and turned at the off accent behind him. His hand was still ready on his gun, but visually he was thrown off by the tall man in a rumpled suit coat and tight pants standing in front of him. It was a lot to take in, from the auburn hawked hair to the weird circle sunglasses with steel blinders at the sides to the twisting, coiled snake tattooed near his left ear.

"Nice shoelace," Dean said, eyeing the weird thin scarf hanging around the man's neck.

The strange man looked down and grunted, brows bunching together over the glasses as he inspected the fabric.

"The hell are you?" Dean asked.

The guy looked back up, opened and closed his mouth, pursed his lips and tilted his head back and forth.

"Changes from time to time," he decided to say, scratching at his tattoo. "Minute to minute of late."

He shrugged.

"Anyway, ain't much important, innit?"

 _Click_.

The man's brows bounced up as he refocused and found a gun pointed in his face.

"I find it's _very_ important, _innit_?" Dean answered bitterly.

The man scoffed, putting his hands up petulantly. Dean barely managed to notice that there was no sound coming from beyond the alley - even though it should be bustling with people - before the guy was speaking again.

"Bal was right," he said under his breath. "You Americans _are_ touchy."

Dean's face ticked.

"'Bal'?"

"Balthazar," the man said; his brows lowered again, disappearing behind his glasses. "Right, I guess he got discoporated quite a bit ago, din't he? Sad one, that."

"You _knew_ Balthazar?" Dean asked, his gun lowering a touch. "You're an angel?"

The guy snorted in amusement.

"Not quite."

"Though not for lack of trying, right dear?"

Dean reached to into the other side of his belt and yanked out another gun, swiveling enough to point it at the new voice that appeared behind him, recentering the first gun on the redhead as he faced them.

Ginger Shoestring was a surprise, but the newcomer was a contender. He had feathery white blond hair and a tartan bow tie, an upturned nose and brown vest peaking out of a tan trench coat.

Dean tried real hard not to zero in on the trench coat.

The new man was smiling at him, and it was more unsettling than the guy who'd pushed him into the alley. There was something off center about it, like he was trying for kind and polite but instead was coming off manic and ready to blow at any moment.

"What kinda convention are you two from?" Dean couldn't help asking.

The blond looked genuinely thrown off by the question, and Dean's heart lurched at his head tilt and slight squint.

"A heavenly one I suppose," the man decided, reorienting his head and scrunching his nose. "Yes, I suppose that's appropriate to say."

"Are we attempting 'appropriate' now, angel?" the redhead asked around Dean. "I thought we were going for unchecked rage - "

"Alright alright _look_ ," Dean interrupted, waving his guns slightly at both of them. "These bullets are etched with every type of sigil meant to take down angels and demons, so you two better start telling me what's going on before I start a shootout at high noon."

"High noon, you say?" the blond asked, smile falling as he fished out a _goddamned_ pocket watch.

"No, it's half past three, mate," the redhead confirmed as he flicked his wrist over to check his watch. He scowled and leaned over to add: "What's the sigils for now, angel?"

"Oh, Castiel says humans here need them _extremely_ badly in order to discorporate our ilk," the blond said, also _rudely_ leaning to the side to talk around Dean. "Apparently angels and demons on this plane can't be killed without them on their weapons."

The demon made an abortive grunt that was overshadowed by:

"Castiel?"

The two immediately straightened, bringing their attention back to the hunter between them. Dean's arms gave the barest of shakes as his attention turned solely toward the man in the waist coat.

"You...spoke with Castiel?" Dean asked, fighting to keep his voice even.

The blond flicked a glance at the demon behind him before smoothing his hands down his jacket.

"Yes," he said, folding his hands behind his back as he gave a little bounce before continuing. "Quite recently."

" _How_ recent?" Dean bullied on.

"Just an hour ago."

Dean swallowed, mind fogging up with questions as he turned toward the man, the redhead near forgotten.

"What'd he...how is he-or - "

"Well a bit _distraught_ I'd say," the redhead said behind him, shoes clicking as he came farther into the alley.

Dean immediately reoriented and pointed the gun at him again, causing the man to jump back and raise his hands once more, his brows bumping back up to his hairline.

"Or maybe I won't, who knows," he muttered under his breath as he shrunk back toward the wall.

"Best behavior there, Crowley," the blond admonished lightly.

" _Me_ 'best behavior', Zzzira? You're the reassson we're here - "

"Crowley?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, with a _long_ 'oh', if you would," the redhead said, shaking his index finger at Dean. "Not like that other wanker running around. I _damned_ told him I'd picked the name before him."

"He's dead."

"Oh," the man - Crowley - said, brows raising impossibly higher as he sheepishly scratched his tattoo. "Lot of it goin' around."

"Yes, well, under _His_ watch instead of _Hers_ ," the blond said to Crowley, once again completely forgetting about Dean. "It's not really a _wonder_ \- "

"That's enough Shira - " Dean squinted. "Or _Zelda_ or - "

"My name, _child_ , is Aziraphale, Principality of the Lord," the blond intoned, any feigned good mood dissipating to an expression of unimpressed disinterest as he seemed to finally, fully take in the man pointing a loaded gun in his face.

Dean's skin instinctively crawled as he gave him an assessing look up and down.

"And to be perfectly _frank_ , not a _lick_ of what I've seen so far convinces me that Castiel's _distraught_ reaction is at all warranted."

Crowley's mouth turned forcibly downward to suppress a smirk, lowering his hands to shove them into his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. The way Aziraphale had been all ruffled and huffy just before arriving, he knew he'd be getting a show.

Dean's mouth worked open and then closed, thrown a bit at the naked disdain on this "Aziraphale's" face, before intelligently answering:

"What?"

"I _suppose_ there's an obvious _physical_ charm," Aziraphale admitted, wrinkling his nose as if saying this pained him. "But aside from that, I don't much see the appeal to you."

"I don't-the hell're you- _What_?" Dean stammered, lowering his guns entirely as he glared at the angel. "Since when the _hell_ should you care about my... _that_?"

"Since I'm Castiel's _brother_."

Dean was, once again, flabbergasted. Aziraphale scoffed.

"We _all_ are, if you _recall_ ," he continued haughtily. "I'm _sure_ Castiel has explained such to you before - "

"Yeah, _yes_ , okay? He _has,_ " Dean interrupted, glaring right back at him. "None of the others seem too _keen_ on calling him 'brother' anymore, is all."

If possible, Aziraphale squared himself more, chin lifting.

"Castiel has, and always _will_ be, my brother, whether we be in different planes or the same, whether he be without _folly_ or with, whether - "

"Think he gets the point, angel," Crowley finally piped up from his front row seat leaning against the wall.

"So _what_ , he sent you 'cause," Dean started, but he stopped when he realized he couldn't imagine Cas sending a brother Dean had never met to greet him for _any_ reason.

"'Sent isn't quite the _right_ context," Aziraphale sighed aggitatedly.

"More 'told us about'," Crowley added helpfully, tilting his head side to side again. "Informed. _Confided_."

He looked pointedly at Dean at his last synonym, one brow disappearing behind his sunglasses and the other bumping up. Dean squinted back at him for longer than he'd care to admit before his meaning clicked in his mind.

"Oh, right," Dean sighed, guns making their way back to their homes at either side of his belt. "I guess you...I guess you heard, huh?"

"Oh _yes_ ," Aziraphale said, upper lip curling in disdain as he reached into his coat.

Dean got only a glimpse of steel before he felt the guns in his hands disappear from his grasp. His eyes jerked down to search for them as he stumbled back, panic ripping through him. A crack of force followed shortly after their disappearance, forcing him back farther as the smell of smoke permeated the air. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, his ears ringing a bit as he straightened up and -

That's a sword.

That's a sword on _fire._

"I heard," Aziraphale finished, voice dropping to a growl.

"Uh-whoa-wait - " Dean heard himself say. "Wait a second."

Aziraphale simply lifted a brow and pointed the sword his way.

"Try not to make a mess, angel," Crowley said, having taken cover behind Dean to sit on a discarded box and watch the show.

" _We don't need a mess_!" Dean said quickly as Aziraphale stepped toward him, the flames on his sword lashing out toward its target. " _No reason for a mess_!"

"This coming from a man who greets strangers with two guns in hand," Aziraphale scoffed.

"Hey, _my choice_ doesn't bring Smokey the Bear to our block, _the hell is wrong with you_?"

"I believe 'What is wrong with me' should be _quite_ obvious."

"Because of _Cas_? _He's_ the one who decided to leave! Why take it out on _me_?"

" _Enough_!" Aziraphale shouted, eyes flashing lightning blue as his vice echoed around them.

" _ZIRA NO_!"

Aziraphale's rage jerked into guilty shock; he swiveled around enough that Dean could see the person who'd burst into existence behind him. His breath caught in his throat.

Black hair.

Blue eyes.

Trench coat.

"Cas?"

Castiel's eyes unconsciously flicked his way, but he paid him little mind as he stormed up to Aziraphale.

"Aw, don't be a stick in the mud, 'Tiel," Crowley drawled, sagging down the box, put out by the sudden interruption. "The lad can take a bit of a hazing. I say 'Zira _yes_ '!"

"I never asked you to come here," Castiel told Aziraphale, ignoring Crowley (and Dean, with difficulty).

"It was a bit implied," Aziraphale answered readily, swinging his sword low nonchalantly.

"During what point of me saying 'Do _not_ make contact with Dean Winchester' was your appearance here implied?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips. Dean let a small breath of relief out when the sword's flames diminished and the tip of the blade rested lightly on the concrete.

"Crowley is the one who made initial _contact_ with Mr. Winchester," Aziraphale reasoned, tapping his fingers on the pommel of the sword. "And, if it came to blows, never once would _I_ technically make contact with him either."

"Just your sword," Castiel guessed accusingly.

"You _must_ be more clear when making requests of us, dear brother, _anything_ can be misunderstood if communication isn't carefully inton - "

Aziraphale stopped talking when Castiel leaned into his space, blue eyes glaring straight into his brother's.

"Leave. Dean. Alone," Castiel growled, glare intensifying when Aziraphale's brow bopped up at his tone.

Dean swallowed as he watched the two angels square off. He couldn't tell if Castiel was irreversibly pissed off or not, not from this angle, and for some reason he wouldn't be able to move forward if his life depended on it. Seeing Castiel again was like breathing fresh air and choking on gasoline at the same time, and he didn't know which side of the emotional scale was going to win out.

Aziraphale was the first to back down, a small smile spreading across his face as he examined the protective expression on his brother's face.

"You know," Aziraphale said quietly, words meant only for Castiel. "I still sense great... _affection_...permeating from your Dean."

Castiel's eyes widened, his face flushing as his brother scrunched his nose playfully.

"Best to try to clear up some _other_ misunderstandings, Castiel," he continued. "Before you make a choice you will regret."

"You're more meddling than I thought, Zira," Castiel sighed; his face had softened into what could only be known as a Bitchface, one he'd seen on Sam many times when Dean handled something in a way "Only a big brother could", as it was.

"Oh no, _never_ meddling," Aziraphale admonished lightly, winking at him as he fixed his vest. "Angels never meddle. I'm simply... _guiding_ , dear brother."

He swiveled sharply and snapped his fingers. Dean blinked and the sword was gone.

"Dean Winchester," Aziraphale said, brow quirking as he stopped at Dean's right shoulder. "It was a bit of a rocky meeting, but a meeting none the less, wouldn't you say."

"I'd say a lot of things," Dean growled, wishing his guns were back, out of spite. "None of which would be _that_."

"Of course," Aziraphale chuckled, glancing back at Castiel, who was rooted to the spot and staring at the wall to his left.

He leaned a touch closer, his eyes darkening.

"If he comes to me again in the state he was in, you and I will have a _much_ worse exchange, Dean Winchester," he said. "You talk to him. You figure this out. Or Mother help me, you _will_ regret it."

Dean lifted his chin, squinting down his nose at the angel as he gave Dean a sweet, farewell smile.

"Come now, Crowley dear," Aziraphale called to his demon, starting out of the alley. "There's a sushi bar not far from here we simply _must_ try."

"Wonderful," Crowley sniffed, hoisting himself off the box with a groan. "I suppose we couldn't _possibly_ miss that."

He stopped just enough to furrow his brows in Dean's direction - his silent expression as foreboding as Aziraphale's hushed words - before he followed after his angel.

The moment the two disappeared, the hustle and bustle of the city roared back to life, and Dean caught the start of a denizen finally passing by the opening as he turned back to Castiel.

Their eyes slowly met and the tense air between them increased. Dean realized seeing Castiel was tipping him more toward the "choking on gasoline" mood that he'd felt earlier, and the more they stared at each other, the worse it became.

"Are you okay?"

Dean flinched at the question, barely realizing Castiel had asked it. Castiel searched his face before his eyes dropped to the concrete.

"I apologi - " he started.

"No," Dean said at the same time.

Castiel stopped, his face screwing up.

"No," Dean repeated, licking his lips. "I'm not okay."

Castiel's eyes shot up to assess him for injuries, his mouth open to ask what Aziraphale and Crowley had done to him.

"I fucked up," Dean said, causing Castiel to meet his eyes again. "I mean I really...really fucked up."

"Dean - " Castiel started.

"Don't. I know I can't make up for what I said. It shouldn't have ever come out of my mouth, but I guess...I guess I can't ever think before I just dump all the stupid shit out of my brain, right?"

Dean's eyes had lowered as he spoke, too ashamed to look at Castiel anymore.

"I can't take back what I said. And I can't...say that I didn't feel it was true at the time. But I _shouldn't_ feel it's true. I shouldn't keep blaming you for stuff you can't control when you didn't mean... you haven't ever - "

" _Dean_."

He swallowed and forced himself to look up. Castiel had closed the distance between them at some time during his apology, his expression soft but indiscernible.

"What do you need from me?" Castiel asked carefully. "You're still hurting, and I don't often...help."

Dean's chest ached at the flash of pain in Castiel's eyes when he said that.

"So this is me asking," Castiel continued. "What do you need from me?"

His throat dried when Castiel's eyes bore into his again.

"How can I help?"

They stared at each other, inches apart as always. Dean hadn't realized how much of his day revolved around feeling Castiel's invading body heat until it was gone, and now, he couldn't help that he was soaking it in for longer than would be considered appropriate.

There was a moment where Castiel second guessed himself and tried to take a step back.

Dean reached out and snatched his hand, holding him where he was as he bowed his head.

"Come home," Dean croaked.

Castiel jerked at his request, and Dean tentatively squeezed his hand.

"Please come home," Dean repeated, his voice dropping to a hushed plea. "Sam and I..."

He stopped and forced his eyes up, trying to express _years_ of hidden emotions in his words.

"I need you, Cas."

Castiel's eyes turned glassy. Dean swallowed as the angel squeezed his hand back, stepping closer.

Dean's eyes fluttered shut as Castiel's lips found his. It was fleeting, and over too soon, and Dean - he couldn't have that - _had_ to reach up to grab the base of Castiel's neck, pulling him back in for a real kiss. Castiel accepted his advance, mirroring his hold as he let Dean take the reigns.

Someone from the sidewalk behind them let out a piercing whistle as they passed by, jarring them from the kiss. They breathed in each other's air, foreheads pressed together, as both of them took the moment to understand what had just transpired between them.

Castiel was the first to set his jaw and look Dean in the eyes.

"This doesn't excuse what you said," he said slowly, watching Dean snap out of his revelry and sullen. "You hurt me, Dean."

"I know," Dean rasped, unable to look Castiel in the eyes again.

" _But_ ," Castiel continued, reaching his hand up to gently raise his chin until Dean had to look at him. "I will come home," he said softly. "You're...you're everything, Dean. I forgive you, for what you said to me. It will just be some time before it stops feeling so painful."

Dean nodded, squeezing Castiel's hand.

"But I'm here. To stay."

Dean couldn't help the relieved smile that spread across his face, and apparently neither could Castiel.

"I guess you'll have to get used to that," the angel hummed.

"I guess I will," Dean agreed.

He pushed in for another kiss, an awkward one with how much he was _beaming_ right now. He knew this wasn't the last of it, he knew he and Castiel would still fight. Hell, Castiel deserved to chew him up and spit him out after the crap he'd put him through.

But he was coming home.

And right now, with everything stacked against them, that's all that Dean would ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Hopefully y'all liked it! Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Have a good one, boiz!


End file.
